


The Bofur-Shags-the-Entire-Company Fic

by Holly_Fox (Zana)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bofur sleeps with most of the company, Casual Sex, Friends With Benefits, Light Bondage, M/M, Voyeurism, mostly I just wanted Oin to get some love, porn without plot but it's not terribly explicit, unnegotiated threesomes, you might guess that from the title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zana/pseuds/Holly_Fox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t as if Bofur set out to have sex with all the dwarves in the company (and the hobbit besides).  Honestly, he wasn't sure how it happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bofur-Shags-the-Entire-Company Fic

             It wasn’t as if Bofur _set out_ to have sex with all the dwarves in the company (and the hobbit besides).  It was just that, well, he liked to sleep curled up next to somebody, and he liked sex, and he liked everyone on this mad quest, and it just sort of… _happened._

Not his kin, of course.  Bifur and Bombur were happy to let him climb into their bedrolls and cuddle together, but there were lines dwarves did not cross.

            And not Gloin, who loved his wife, or Balin, who steadfastly ignored every hint Bofur sent his way.  And not Thorin, sadly, because Bofur didn’t quite dare ask, and Thorin never would.

            And not the wizard.  Bofur wasn’t _insane_.

            So, only two thirds of the company, as it turned out.  Still, that was a great deal more dwarves than he’d ever slept with in any six-month period before.  And the Halfling was a novelty as well.

            Honestly, Bofur wasn’t sure how it happened.

* * *

            He knew it started with Kili, whom he’d known since the lad was small enough to patronize Bofur’s toyshop.  Kili, whose beard was so sparse Bofur thought perhaps he should feel guilty when his cock jumped at the boy’s suggestion that they find a quiet corner…  Bag End was rather tight with thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard.  They found a rootcellar with a door that closed, though, and then had the world’s third most awkward conversation when Bofur discovered that Kili didn’t know how to kiss _because he’d never done it before._

            “No one thinks I look like a proper dwarf,” Kili explained.  His voice was matter-of-fact but his breathing was a little irregular, and Bofur guessed it bothered the lad more than he’d admit.

            “Nonsense,” Bofur told him firmly, and kissed him soundly.  They stuck to pulling each other off that night, but in Rivendell Bofur, through extensive demonstration, taught Kili how to give a blowjob.  He was quite satisfied with the results of his lessons.  And when in Mirkwood Kili whispered to him one night about a beautiful Elf, Bofur kissed him, described how to finger a woman, and wished him the best of luck.

* * *

             Nori was next.  It must have started sometime before the trolls, Bofur thought, because Nori definitely didn’t have the gold necklaces when they first started, and he did after they found the troll hoard.  Nori was the one Bofur slept with the most.  They’d not known each other before the quest, but by Rivendell they were fast friends.  The two of them would share a bedroll of a night, talking and laughing, and a nice handjob was just a bonus.  Nori, long talented fingers wrapped around Bofur’s cock, would tell him in explicit detail his fantasies about what he’d like Dwalin to do to him.  The stories got more and more outrageous as time went on and Nori was determined not to repeat scenarios, and sometimes Bofur would wake the whole camp because he was laughing so hard.

            When they had the leisure – at Rivendell and at Beorn’s – they fucked.  Nori was sin personified in bed; Bofur could get hard just from the memory of Nori taking off his clothes.

* * *

             The first time with Oin was an accident, actually.  Nori had first watch and Bofur climbed in his bedroll to wait for him.  Or rather, he thought it was Nori’s bedroll.  His first inkling that he’d been mistaken was a surprised curse from the dwarf who joined him.  “What are you doing here, laddie?” Oin demanded.

            Bofur was about to admit the mistake, but it felt rude to say, “Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”  And he’d always liked older dwarves, and Oin certainly wasn’t bad-looking.  Distinguished, you might call him.  So Bofur stretched languidly and replied, “I thought that would be obvious, no?”  He smiled sunnily up at Oin with his best flirtatious glance, and felt smug when the charm worked.

            “Cheeky bugger,” Oin grumbled, and brought Bofur to hardness with a sure, steady hand.  He made Bofur come the first time on his fingers before fucking him deep and long.  Oin was utterly sure of himself and his prowess, and it was quite the best fuck of Bofur’s life.  He was sore the next morning, but Oin had some salve in his medicine bag that left him feeling only pleasantly achy.

            Bofur hoped it wouldn’t be a one-off, but Oin seemed uninterested in his flirting over the next few days, so he left it alone.

* * *

            Fili cornered him the night before the stone giants.  “Kili says you’re good,” he muttered, a challenge, and Bofur thoroughly enjoyed wiping the smirk off the young prince’s face and sending him away glassy-eyed.

* * *

             Bofur was the first to get Dwalin.  He wanted that on the record, because Nori would later deny it, but Bofur was first.  Nori didn’t talk his way into Dwalin’s bed until Mirkwood, and it was at Beorn’s that Bofur came across Dwalin in a dark corner with his hand in his trousers.  Bofur cleared his throat to get the big dwarf’s attention, sank to his knees, and quirked his eyebrows up at Dwalin for permission.  Dwalin’s mouth dropped open in surprise, but he got behind the plan fast.  Sadly for Bofur, it was just when he’d gotten a mouthful of come and Dwalin was beginning to feel him up that Thorin started shouting for everyone to pack up, so Dwalin didn’t get to return the favor. 

           Later Bofur would tease Nori with stories of just how big Dwalin’s cock was, and they would giggle and whisper nestled together in a shared bedroll like two old gossiping dwarrowdams until Dori threw a boot at them.  Bofur didn’t begrudge Dwalin taking up with Nori in Mirkwood; Nori and Dwalin shared a cell in Thranduil’s dungeon, and Bofur knew how persuasive Nori could be.

* * *

            Bofur shared a cell with Dori, which drove him a little mad the first few days because Dori was so worried about his brothers.  When Bilbo came with news of them, however, Dori settled down a bit and began fussing over Bofur instead, and that was a nice surprise. He’d never have thought he’d have a chance with Dori, neat as a pin and so very proper.  It was a joy to distract the dwarf from his worrying – and a delicious thrill to be held in arms that could crush him to pulp.

           It was in Thranduil’s dungeon as well that Bofur began to really get to know the Halfling.  Of course they had been friendly all along, but Bilbo was a shy little thing and clearly unsure of how best to talk with dwarves.  When they’d first met, after the first five or six times that Bofur’s teasing had made the hobbit turn red and splutter, Bofur took pity on him and let him be; after all, Thorin was being enough of an arse to Bilbo during the first part of the journey.

           Figuring he’d never get another chance to see what a Halfling was like in bed, he’d invited Bilbo to join him and Nori one night in Rivendell.  The look of absolute horror he’d gotten in return told him that possibly hobbits weren’t so free with their bodies as young dwarves.  Bofur apologized for any unintended insult and left it at that.

           Stuck in Thandruil’s dungeon, though, he finally had an opportunity to speak at length with the little hobbit.  Bilbo was very unhappy, he could see, forced to run back and forth all day carrying messages from one dwarf to another, and Bofur would bet that Thorin was still being an arse – and possibly even more of one now, impotent in his rage against his old enemy.

           So Bofur encouraged the hobbit to sit and rest, and told him dwarven stories and jokes, and gradually Bilbo began to open up and speak of home.  Bofur felt guilty as he realized that he’d looked out for Bilbo’s physical safety during the journey but not his wellbeing; he’d been friendly but not a friend.  He tried to make up for it now with words and smiles.  He knew he’d succeeded when Bilbo was comfortable enough to babble at him for long hours about gardening and books, and about Thranduil’s huge library that Bilbo wished he had time to explore.  Dori, without his brothers to worry over, found a very appreciative substitute in the Halfling, and Bilbo was soon kitted out with a new knitted scarf and earmuffs.

           The hobbit never made a sound when he came or went from the dungeons.  One afternoon when Dori and Bofur were passing the time in a mutually pleasing manner, Bofur glanced up and saw the Halfling watching, eyes slightly glazed.  Bilbo turned brilliantly crimson when Bofur winked, and he must have put on his magic ring then for he disappeared abruptly.  Bofur eased Dori’s mouth back down onto his cock and wondered if this was the first time they’d been watched.

           From the way the hobbit stuttered and blushed the next time he came with a message from Ori, it probably was.  Bofur never found out if it was the last time, though.  He rather hoped not.

* * *

            Then there were barrels, and water, and escape, and everyone was thoroughly miserable and cross.  Bilbo had a cold, and Bifur smelt of fish, and Fili retched every time someone even mentioned an apple – which kept his brother entertained when he wasn’t busy staring mournfully toward Mirkwood with dark circles under his eyes.

           They were all glad for the respite in Laketown.  Bofur left the nobles to do the politicking and enjoyed a nice hot bath, scrubbing himself almost raw to get rid of the grime of months on the road.  Refreshed, he went looking for Nori.

           Nori cornered him in a closet and gave him a big grin and a kiss that left Bofur panting.  “Want to join me and Dwalin tonight?” Nori asked, eyes sparkling.

           Which was how Bofur found himself naked in Nori’s bed that night, arms tied to the headboard.  Nori prepared him thoroughly before stepping out to fetch Dwalin, and Bofur was looking forward to an evening of fireworks.

           He heard Dwalin’s deep rumble outside the door and arousal shot through him.  Nori had already posed him but he bent one knee up a little and turned his body toward the door to be seen to best advantage.

           Dwalin came into the room and reared to a stop, his eyes going wide at the sight of Bofur.  This was Bofur’s first clue that the evening was not going to go as planned.  The second was when Dwalin whirled, fixed Nori with a glare, and demanded, _“What is he doing in our bed?!”_

           Nori looked taken aback at the anger, but he rallied.  “I thought you’d like to share him, love,” he purred.

           Mahal _take_ Nori!  When had love come into it?  They’d only been in that dungeon for a few weeks!  Courting was supposed to last _years_.

           Dwalin was outraged.  “By my beard, I will _not_ share my intended with any other dwarf!” he thundered, and if Bofur hadn’t been so embarrassed he would have laughed at the dumbfounded look on Nori’s face.

           “Your intended!” he spluttered.  “Since when am I – ”

           Bofur _really_ didn’t want to be a part of this.  “I can see there’s been a misunderstanding,” he said loudly, working one of his hands free of the ropes.  He reached under the pillow for the dagger he’d stashed there earlier just in case and sliced through the rope binding the other wrist to the bed.  “My apologies, Dwalin.  I _assumed_ this had been negotiated.”  Bofur glared at Nori, who winced guiltily.

           He let himself out of the room with a feeling of relief, only to realize that he was stark naked on the landing and had left his clothes inside.  Raised voices behind the door convinced him it was not worth it to return.

           The room Bofur was sharing with his brother was two floors up, and he really hoped he wouldn’t be caught in the altogether.  Tonight had been humiliating enough already.  He could kill Nori, he really could.

           He heard a crash behind the door and wondered if Dwalin was trying to.  More muffled shouting – another crash – then a long moan, and Bofur decided Nori would probably survive the night.  Lucky bastard.

           Of course, to make his humiliation complete, Ori caught him on the stairs.  The lad goggled a little then sighed and said, “Nori?”  But he took off his jumper and gave it to Bofur, and Bofur followed him to his room where Ori made him tea.

           They both winced to hear another muffled crash in the room below – that had to be the bed – and Ori smiled tightly.  “He doesn’t think things through.  He never remembers that other people might be upset by what he does.”

           Something in Ori’s voice made Bofur ask, “You and Dwalin?”

           Ori blinked in surprise, but shook his head.  “Not really.”

           “You wanted him though.”

           Ori smiled his sweet smile, and Bofur wished he had punched Nori in the nose before he left the room.  “Does anybody not want Dwalin?” Ori said, and his voice was matter-of-fact.  Not too broken up about it, then, thank Mahal.

           “I’m sorry, lad,” he said, sipping at the tea and wishing Ori had a pair of trousers that would fit him.  He could still feel the ghost of Nori’s fingers inside him, though thankfully his arousal had disappeared; he didn’t need any further embarrassment tonight.

           He looked at Ori and thought about offering himself as a substitute for the night, but Dori would skin him alive if he found out – and besides, it would be selfish of him to take advantage of Ori’s disappointment.

           He was surprised a few moments later when Ori took his teacup and climbed into his lap.  “Everyone wants you, too, you know,” the lad murmured, burying his hands in Bofur’s hair and kissing him with a sweetness that took Bofur’s breath away and brought the arousal roaring back.

           “Is that so,” Bofur laughed.

           Ori fucked him with a sweet earnestness that should not have surprised him, but it did.  Bofur was also surprised that Ori, in spite of appearances, knew his way around a lover’s body with the expertise of one many years older.  Ori blushed, pleased, when he was complimented for it, but offered up no explanation.  When Bofur took him, Ori smiled up at him, pure bliss on his face, and Bofur decided that Dwalin had chosen the wrong brother.

           The next morning at breakfast, Dwalin announced his and Nori’s engagement, and Bofur and Ori laughed and laughed at the dazed look on Nori’s face.  Even Dori looked pleased, and was heard to mutter, “Maybe _you_ can control the Mahal-cursed reprobate!”

* * *

           Things turned serious not long after, and there was no time for bedsport.  Soon they were off to the Mountain, and then followed such a series of events as Bofur could never have dreamed of: the dragon, and Thorin’s gold-sickness, and then a _war._

           Bilbo grew steadily more and more unhappy as things progressed, and Bofur tried to cheer him up, but with Thorin so bad there was nothing he could do.  On the night before the battle, the Halfling crawled into Bofur’s bedroll and wept bitterly into his shirt.  Bofur held him and petted him, trying to comfort the little creature, but there seemed no help for it.

           He woke in the middle of the night to find Bilbo still awake, though the tears were gone.  They whispered quietly together, reassuring words and touches, until the hobbit reached up and cupped Bofur’s cheek.  “Will you?” he asked seriously, and his other hand guided Bofur’s down to the bulge between his legs.

           “Yes, of course,” Bofur said, and tried to unlace the trousers, but Bilbo shook his head.

           “Touching is only for married couples,” he whispered.  “It’s already dreadfully wrong that I’m asking – but if it’s through cloth – ”

           “What about kissing?” Bofur asked.  “May I kiss you?”

           Bilbo flinched a little and shook his head again.  “No,” he said miserably.  “Oh, Bofur, I wish – ”

           The Halfling resisted when Bofur pulled his head down, but Bofur merely settled their foreheads together so they could look in each other’s eyes.  He ran careful hands over Bilbo’s body, noting where he sighed and where his breath caught.  Bofur wished terribly that he could tear off the clothing, and he couldn’t say he hadn’t fantasized about Bilbo snug and hot around his cock – but if this was what he could be allowed he was determined to enjoy it.  And he did relish Bilbo’s whimpers when he stroked and squeezed between his legs and rubbed at the little nipples, and the whines when Bofur shuffled down to mouth at his cock through his trousers.  When Bilbo finally came, shaking in Bofur’s arms, Bofur pressed soft kisses into his hair so that he wouldn’t accidentally press them to his mouth.

           Bilbo curled sleepily against him and within moments his eyelids were drooping, and Bofur found himself with an adorable armful of sleeping hobbit.  He chuckled a little, taking himself in hand, and wished he could sleep always curled around a hobbit who seemed just the right size for cuddling.

           In the morning Bilbo was gone, and later that day they found out that he’d really earned the moniker of burglar.

* * *

           The Battle was ugly and bloody, and too many dwarves died.  Oin was running the medical tents, and Bofur spent two days combing the battlefield and carrying bodies back to him.  When they were finally sure that nobody was still lying injured amongst the orc carcasses, Bofur dragged Oin back to his tent and put him to bed, climbing in after him and wrapping himself around the old warrior in case he took it into his head to try to sneak back to the infirmary in the middle of the night.  Oin stayed put and got some much-needed sleep.

           There was a funeral; there was a coronation; there was a Mountain to restore to its former glory.  Bilbo left with Gandalf, and he kissed Bofur goodbye before he went, both their faces streaked with tears.  There were still dozens injured, and Bofur still had to drag Oin home at the end of the day, and he tried not to think about it.

           After several months of sleeping in the same bed, the numbness of exhaustion and grief eventually lifted, and he woke one morning to Oin gently running calloused fingers over every inch of Bofur’s skin.  Welcoming Oin into his body was a relief, a reminder that they were both alive, and if they clung to each other a bit too tightly afterward, well, no one else need know.

           When they moved into the Mountain, Oin carried Bofur’s mattock and pack into the quarters he’d occupied before the dragon came.  Together they cleared out years of dust and molding books and decaying furniture.

           On the first anniversary of the Battle, there was a celebration.  Dain made speeches and Gandalf sent fireworks.  Those who remained of Thorin’s company were toasted, and the feasting continued far into the night.

           Nori found Bofur nursing a tankard of ale in a corner, watching the festivities.  He sat down next to him and they both looked out at the feasting hall, at the world they’d built.

           “So,” Nori said, sliding him a flirtatious glance, “Oin?”

           Bofur gave him a lazy grin, mostly for show but there was some pride in it.  “Best I ever had,” he said smugly.  Except for Bilbo, and nobody would ever know about that; that was Bofur’s secret to keep.

           “That’s cause you never had Dwalin,” Nori said just as smugly.

           Bofur laughed.  “And whose fault is that?”

           Nori grimaced.  “I’m sorry about that, you know.”

           “I’m not.”  He wasn’t, he realized.

           Nori studied him from under his braided eyebrows.  His forehead wrinkled as he frowned.  “I want to kiss you,” he said slowly, “and at the same time I don’t.”

           Bofur looked over to where Dwalin was scowling, pretending not to watch them.

           Nori followed his eyes.  “I kind of like that’s he’s possessive,” he admitted with a grin.  He settled his body close to Bofur’s, leaning in close.

           Bofur laughed again.  “Are you flirting with me to make him mad?”

           “Yes.”  Nori’s eyes danced.

           Bofur glanced over at Oin who was entertaining his young nephew, and wondered if he would get jealous if Bofur flirted, and whether Bofur would enjoy it.

           He felt no need to find out, though.  He was already utterly content.

 


End file.
